


Lyddie

by Blu_dahlia



Series: What's in a name? [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Underage Drinking, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 12:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6470695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blu_dahlia/pseuds/Blu_dahlia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He does not call her Lyddie. No one does. Except Allison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lyddie

**Author's Note:**

> I have a strong feeling I'll end up revising this. It started as one idea, then morphed, and I might split it up somehow but I figured I'd put it out there and decide later. Anyway it's just weird that they barely ever showed anyone mourning Allison.
> 
> Also, the scene where Allison is apologizing to Lydia is supposed to happen the day Lydia gets back to school after the video store incident.

He does _not_ call her “Lyddie”.

No one calls her that, really. Not since she was ten years old. That was the year she determined she was too mature for childish nicknames. For the first two weeks of fifth grade she refuses to respond to anyone who addresses her as “Lyddie” with anything other than a withering glare. It takes some kids longer than others (ahem, _Stiles Stilinski)_ but by the end of that year, no one even thinks of calling her by the nickname. Her methods are so effective, and the other girls are so convinced of her maturity that not only is Lydia no longer “Lyddie”, Jennifer is no longer “Jenny”, and Kimberley is no longer “Kimmi”.

(And no one will ever know the real reason she can’t stand to be called “Lyddie” anymore is that “Lyddie” was Daddy’s little girl. But Daddy left and is now getting remarried to a woman with a 5-year old daughter that he says is adorable. He has asked Lydia to be mature about it.)

No one calls her by her nickname for years. Not even her parents. She’s not even sure she could pinpoint the last time she heard it. So when Allison, who is new and unaware of the social rules set in place when her classmates were ten, first does Lydia is caught completely off guard.

“LYDDIE!!”

The sound of Allison’s exclamation is still ringing in Lydia’s ears as she is suddenly and forcefully surround by curly brown hair and the smell of her best friend’s perfume as she wraps her in a hug.

“I’m so glad you’re okay I was so worried when I heard what happened. I swear I didn’t know how bad it was. I didn’t even come see you! Please don’t hate me! Ugh, Lyddie just thank God you’re okay! I’m so sorry!”

Lydia almost feels a bit dazed when she hears the name for the second time. It seems so unfamiliar to her now, so detached from who she is. But what’s really strange is how hearing it makes her feel. When Allison calls her “Lyddie” there is so much warmth and _love_ in her voice. It’s been so long since Lydia felt so much affection just from someone’s tone and instantaneously she realizes she’s been starving for it. So she doesn’t glare at Allison or even correct her. She wiggles out of her best friends arms and adopts a tone that is so over-the-top superior that it will reassure Allison that she is okay, that they are okay, and make her laugh as she “forgives” her. They head to class arm in arm. “Lyddie” becomes Allison’s special name for her.

~~~~~

The night Allison dies, Lydia has a dream. It’s murky, and she’ll never remember the details, but she hears a voice clear as day.

“Lyddie I’m scared.”

“Lyddie I love you.”

“It’s all going to be okay Lyddie.”

It absolutely guts her.

~~~~~

The morning of the funeral, Lydia is actually impressed with herself. It takes longer than usual, but she is dressed with perfect hair and makeup just in time for Scott and Stiles to pick her up so they can ride over together. Scott looks a wreck, like he’s barely holding it together, and is using every bit of strength and determination in him to do so. He’s at least mostly succeeding. Stiles looks slightly more alive than he did a few days ago. But, he’s still too thin, with enormous bags under his eyes and he won’t make eye contact with anyone. He looks like his greatest wish would be for the floor to open up and swallow him whole so he could disappear to literally anywhere else forever. Her mother gives both boys a hug as she greets them before turning to her daughter.

“Ready to go, Lyddie?”

Her glare snaps in her mother’s direction so fast she may have actually given herself whiplash.

“That is not my name. Don’t. Call. Me. That.”

~~~~~

Two days later, her mother is out of town. Lydia thinks she should find it surprising, or maybe just endearing, when Scott and Stiles show up at her door with sleeping bags, but she’s too numb to feel anything. She doesn’t ask why they’re there. Scott’s got his bodyguard look on and Lydia sighs. She’s going to have to figure out how to talk him down from what Allison called “Overprotective Alpha Syndrome” or it’s possible he’ll never let her out of his sight. He’s still looking too tense and fragile for her liking though so she lets it go for now. Stiles still looks like he did at the funeral, his entire being filled with self-loathing and discomfort.

The trio settles on her couches in uncomfortable silence. Scott looks like he’s going to start up a conversation, but changes his mind at the last second. Stiles is tapping his foot so fast he’s probably going to put a hole in the floor. Lydia sighs and rolls her eyes as she heads towards the kitchen. She grabs a couple of bottles and is going for the tumblers when she shrugs and realizes there isn’t really a point. She heads back into the living room and thrusts the first bottle at Scott.

“I know you supposedly can’t get drunk but I’ve seen Aiden do it. He drank rubbing alcohol, which seems extreme to me, so I thought you might want to try moonshine first.”

She waits for Scott to take a nice, big swig from the bottle before she turns to Stiles.

“Whiskey? We can share.”

He doesn’t make a move. She huffs, suddenly absolutely _fed up_ with this guilty shell parading around as Stiles.

“Jesus Christ. You don’t have to look at me, _sweetheart_ , just pass the fucking bottle.”

Stiles takes the bottle. The three of them drink in silence for a while and Lydia is on the verge of kicking them out. She doesn’t really want to be alone but the Dynamic Duo’s apparent inability to speak is slowly driving her insane. Her frustration has been bubbling up for days and she’s about to let loose on them when, miraculously, Scott clears his throat.

“Where the hell did you get moonshine?”

Lydia stutters for minute. The question isn’t exactly out of left field but it also is not what she expects him to open with.

“My mom’s family is from West Virginia. My uncle makes it. We go back once a year and he gives us a couple bottles.”

“West Virginia? Really? Doesn’t seem like you guys.”

“Ill have you know that Natalie Aberdeen was once the proud wearer of the Miss Teen West Virginia Crown. She came to California when she was 20 to become a model, met my dad six months later, and the rest is extremely dysfunctional history.”

It feels strange. Lydia doesn’t usually talk about her family. She likes to keep the different areas of her life separate. She’s not sure why she’s sharing with Scott and Stiles other than the fact that the two of them have been responsible more than once for making sure she has a life at all. Not to mention it feels surprisingly good to just talk to another human being.

“Does that mean we get to call you Ellie Mae?”

Lydia nearly jumps when Stiles pipes up and based on the same stiffening of Scott’s body she concludes that she is not, in fact, the only person he hasn’t been speaking to.

“The Beverly Hill Billys were not from West Virginia.”

“Dolly Parton?”

“Closer, and not a fictional dumbass which I appreciate. But do you really see me having to beg Jolene not to take my man?”

“Loretta Lynn? Jolene wouldn’t be woman enough to take her man.”

“My name is Lydia. Loretta Lynn is the obvious choice for the sake of alliteration alone. You’re getting sloppy.”

Stiles doesn’t outright laugh, but he smirks and shakes his head at her with a spark in his eye she hasn’t seen in weeks and she feels herself flushing with an absurd pride. She glances at Scott who looks tentatively excited, although mostly confused, like he has no clue what they are talking about, at her and Stiles’s exchange. That particular dynamic is so incredibly _normal_ for the three of them that Lydia can’t help but beam as a wave of relief rolls over her.

They spend the rest of the evening talking about anything _but_ Allison, Nogitsunes, and Oni. It takes some effort, and it still isn’t quite enjoyable, but they all seem to be on the same page about wishing it could be and that pushes them through the awkward lulls. She can feel them circling closer as it gets later though.

“Where the fuck is Derek running off to?”

She knows they can feel it too. They’re both getting stiffer and looking down more, while she is slowly curling into herself in the corner of the couch.

“Did you call Kira back yet?”

“No.”

She doesn’t think Scott is drunk, but ¾ a bottle of moonshine did seem to lower his defenses. And he looks utterly exhausted.

“I can’t believe Isaac’s leaving.”

Lydia is pointedly not looking at Stiles. She doesn’t need to look; she can _feel_ the shield of guilt and shame he has been living behind slowly sliding back into place. Just waiting for the final blow that will seal it shut.

“I miss her.”

Scott whispers it, looking at Lydia, helplessly. She almost wouldn’t even be sure he said it except that Stiles shoots up like he’s been struck by lightening. He nearly knocks over a lamp as he stumbles out muttering about getting something from the Jeep or getting air. Scott just keeps looking at her.

“I just…”

“Scott I can’t…”

They cut each other off and the silence sets in again. Scott is still looking at her, helpless, hurt, but understanding. He’s so _good_. Just like Allison.

“Not yet.” She tells him.

Scott nods, taking a deep breath, and another few gulps of moonshine. Lydia knows he needs her, needs someone to talk to. But she’s not there. She’s afraid if she talks about it the very thin stitches holding her heart together will burst and she will never stop bleeding. She’s not Scott McCall. She doesn’t know how to heal after taking the blow for someone else. But he’s sitting in front of her looking so terribly defeated that she can’t just do nothing. So she crawls into his lap and pulls his arms around her and presses his face into her neck. They take deep breaths together and pull back their tears. He whispers his thanks before she pulls away. Lydia slides down next to him on the couch and they sit in companionable silence with her head on his shoulder until Stiles finally comes back inside.

~~~~~

She sets the boys up on the couches and heads upstairs to bed. And then she dreams. She dreams again of dark shapes, and ominous shadows, and a clear soft voice.

“I miss you, Lyddie. All of you.”

“Can you take care of him for me? Stiles too? They need you.”

“I love you Lyddie.”

“Lyddie! Help!”

Lydia screams herself awake to face two sets of terrified brown eyes. She’s sweating and breathing heavy and Scott is frantic, about to call Melissa, while Stiles is trying to soothe her, shushing her and holding her wrists as if she’d been thrashing around. She spots her comforter on the floor and realizes that’s probably what happened. She opens her mouth to tell them she’s fine but her stomach apparently has other plans so she bolts to the bathroom to throw up. In between heaves she hears someone padding in behind her and as she slumps against the toilet a large, smooth hand rubs circles into her back. When she sits back Stiles’ soft caring eyes are looking right into hers and she is so grateful that he isn’t avoiding her again.

(She's  _missed_ him so, so much.)

She wants to tell him that, tell him “thank you”, or “I’m fine” but she can’t get any words out. It’s so frustrating and she’s getting worked up all over again when he grabs her arms firmly and squares her in front of him on the floor.

“What can I do Lydia? Tell me what you need.”

It’s all too much. Scott and Stiles and Allison all having been in her ears within hours of each other. She can’t take it all in. She wants to tell Stiles, wants to follow his order, but she doesn’t know what to say or how to say it.

“She… I heard… I can’t…she said…”

Stiles’s face screws up in concentration as he tries to process the few words she does get out. He looks desperate to understand how to help her. When it clicks, when he realizes what Lydia is trying to tell him, he takes on a pained expression. He draws her body towards him, surrounding her with his limbs as she curls into his chest.

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry… _Lyddie_.”

That does it. Lydia is sobbing openly now and she may never stop. Stiles lips are pressed against her temple as he says the one thing she thought she never wanted anyone else to say. The one thing she had been trying so hard to accept she would never hear again, because she was never going to hear _her_ again. Yet, Stiles is whispering it over and over again like a mantra and instead of pain and anguish she only feels grief and calm.

“I’m so, so sorry Lyddie.”

~~~~~

Eventually, Lydia stops crying enough to make it back to the bedroom. Scott is sitting up quietly, tracks of dried tears down his face. Stiles’s hand is still in hers and she grabs Scott’s elbow and pulls them both down onto the bed with her. Lydia lays on her side between them, Stiles curved behind her with his arm resting protectively around her waist. Scott lays on his back on her other side, and she’s still got her hand wrapped around his arm keeping him close. They settle in without question. She drifts into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
